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"captiv" poems
Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend; That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new. I, like an usurp'd town to'another due, Labor to'admit you, but oh, to no end; Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend, But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue. Yet dearly'I love you, and would be lov'd fain, But am betroth'd unto your enemy; Divorce me,'untie or break that knot again, Take me to you, imprison me, for I, Except you'enthrall me, never shall be free, Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
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Holy Sonnet XIV
Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend; That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new. I, like an usurp'd town to'another due, Labor to'admit you, but oh, to no end; Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend, But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue. Yet dearly'I love you, and would be lov'd fain, But am betroth'd unto your enemy; Divorce me,'untie or break that knot again, Take me to you, imprison me, for I, Except you'enthrall me, never shall be free, Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
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Holy Sonnets: Batter my heart, three-person'd God
As Julia once a-slumbering lay It chanced a bee did fly that way, After a dew or dew-like shower, To tipple freely in a flower. For some rich flower he took the lip Of Julia, and began to sip; But when he felt he ****** from thence Honey, and in the quintessence, He drank so much he scarce could stir, So Julia took the pilferer. And thus surprised, as filchers use, He thus began himself t’ excuse: Sweet lady-flower, I never brought Hither the least one thieving thought; But, taking those rare lips of yours For some fresh, fragrant, luscious flowers, I thought I might there take a taste, Where so much syrup ran at waste. Besides, know this : I never sting The flower that gives me nourishing; But with a kiss, or thanks, do pay For honey that I bear away. This said, he laid his little scrip Of honey ‘fore her ladyship: And told her, as some tears did fall, That that he took, and that was all. At which she smiled, and bade him go And take his bag; but thus much know: When next he came a-pilfering so, He should from her full lips derive Honey enough to fill his hive.
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The Captiv’d Bee, Or The Little Filcher
Alas. Absolutely NOTHING is inspiring. (sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLIII) Firs hang their boughs in silence as in pale Excuse it looks like some big snowman thence Erm, toppled by whom, eh? lies headless hence Upon the "island's" rim cuz oh, t'avail Last weekend some tried to move snow sans bail, As la, his forklift needed to fr'intents Be wrestled from captiv'ty, as for sense The icy pile swore it would NOT move, hale. Now as a fragile touch of pink'd bestir Itself to trick out blank racks 'cross the view, Likeas a chalkboard blushing faintly fer Effect, what drives me to complain? Naught woo. Nor have I watched aught movies. What, as twere, Culls this dull sense that nary joys now cue? 07Mar19c
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Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 10:07 PM UTC
I Want To Scribble, But It's Garbage